


Rules Need Not Apply

by waitwaitwaitok



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Dom/sub, F/M, Het, Hurt!Comfort, M/M, PWP, Sub!Ellen, dom!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitwaitwaitok/pseuds/waitwaitwaitok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen didn't die when Jo did and the Roadhouse didn't burn down. This starts just after Sam dropped into the Pit with Lucifer. Its a story of what could have happened between Dean and Ellen. And what happens when Sam comes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Post Armaggedon is normal

As the Roadhouse came in sight, Dean took a deeper breath than he'd taken since Sam let it all go and fell with Michael and Lucifer, and pain flared in his chest just like it did every time he thought of it. His own visit to Hell had been hideous, but Sammy's must be so much worse. Lucifer was a Prince of Hell for a reason, after all, and forever was a really long time. He should have been able to stop it. Every time he relived it in his mind he tried to think of what he could have done differently, what he should have said. It never really helped.

A little later he came to with a start and realized he'd been parked outside the Roadhouse for god knows how long without even knowing it. He was likely to get himself killed behaving like this. All he could think was that Ellen was hurting over Jo and that misery loved company. He knew he certainly couldn't hunt in this shape, no more than if he had a broken leg. Maybe he could do chores for Ellen in exchange for a place to hole up for awhile.

Ellen looked warily up from the bar when he came in the door. Her eyes didn't light up, but they did soften a little when she saw who it was. She kept watching the door for a moment and he realized that she was looking for Sam. She hadn't heard yet. He steeled himself to find the words to explain but saw her staring at his cheeks before he felt the tears dripping down. She stepped out and folded him in her arms. "It's gonna be okay, honey. It'll be okay." He appreciated the soft lies.

A few days later he was mopping the kitchen, his mind nowhere near the Roadhouse, when the door from the bar slammed open and Ash stumbled in with an odd look on his face. "Umm, hey, man, could you head over to the food suppliers and pick up some bread? Ellen says she's out and they didn't deliver enough."

Dean just looked at him. He wondered vaguely if Ash imagined that his depression had caused his brain to stop working completely. "What's going on, dude?" Ash opened his mouth, slightly confused. He shook his head at Ash. "Don't give me that bullshit. Is there someone here I should know about?"

The lack of coherent response on his normally quick face gave him away. Ash would never make it as a hunter in the field. No subterfuge at all. Dean dropped the mop and pulled out the pistol from under his shirt.and checked the ammo. Not that he thought it wasn't full, but it was a good habit to always check before you needed it. 

"Dean, now, you just need to maintain the zen, man. No need to lose your cool over this, dude."

"Just tell me, Ash." His hot glare spoke a lot louder than his words.

The door swung open and Ellen stepped inside cautiously, taking the scene in quickly and letting her exasperation show. "Dammit, boy, there's no reason to be pulling out weapons just yet. There may be some way to resolve this peaceably." Dean just raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you'd better explain what "this" is before you tell me how to react."

Her eyes dropped to the floor. "Walt and Roy are here." Dean felt the bile rise in his throat and heat rise into his head. He narrowed his eyes and tried to regain his control over his body before speaking. Let the hot anger blow through his body and brain, whistling through the memories of watching the bullet blow Sammy apart. His Sammy, who had given his all to save the whole fucking world. He swayed a little, taking in every tiny detail of the shiny, sharp kitchen and the two warm bodies in front of him. He could hear the ticking of the wall clock and the noise of a car starting outside, the clink of a glass and a rumble of laughter from the bar. The smell of Pine-Sol and beer wove around him. His teeth tasted fuzzy from lack of moisture as his brain dissected his options. Ash and Ellen both went totally still as if faced with a deadly predator. 

When the heat subsided a fraction, he cocked his head and asked them softly, "What would you do?" He was biding his time, waiting for the hot fire to turn to ice, but he was honestly curious what they thought. Had his path taken him that far from normal?

Ellen's face fell and he could hear her wrestling with her brain to find something to say that would keep him from killing them, but she was too honest to lie. Ash just gazed at him sadly, like he knew this would hurt Dean more than Walt and Roy in the long run. Ash always was a brilliant little shit. 

When he smiled he knew it wasn't a pretty sight. He pulled his shoulders back and walked softly towards the door to the bar, pulling it open thoughtfully. If he was doing this it would be with all the intention in the world. Maybe there wasn't that much fucking difference between him and the monsters any more, but at least his crimes would be completely premeditated. He almost welcomed any consequences, anyway. He knew the shrinks would call it survivor's guilt, but who the hell cared what you called it? The feeling was still real.

He felt the atmosphere in the bar change as he paced steadily towards Walt and Roy. Everyone here had the instincts to know death when it walked in the door. Every voice died. Silverware was dropped and hands quietly went to weapons. Eyes and ears went on high alert. 

Walt and Roy were in a booth with nowhere to run. They both stood up in front of it, visible fear on their faces before he was halfway there. They'd been so tough when they were facing unarmed men. Dean paused at about 15 feet out. "Any reason I shouldn't mow you motherfuckers down right here?"

After a moment of solid silence, Ellen spoke. "I'd prefer not to clean blood and guts out of the bar, if you don't mind."

Walt and Roy looked slightly shocked at that, but Dean chuckled. "You heard her, boys, move it on outside." He gestured with his gun. Their faces turned even whiter in the face of his smile.

They started walking sideways, keeping their chests towards Dean as they slid towards the door to the front parking lot. The rest of the patrons began a slight rustling as Dean followed at a safe distance. He knew they'd be following shortly, anxious to see the show.

He half expected Walt or Roy to take off running as they went through the door, but neither did. They seemed to feel that they deserved the punishment. Maybe they'd heard what happened at the cemetery, or maybe they'd just expected this day ever since they'd heard he was alive again. 

He waited until they were out away from any cars and told them to stop. He said "Winchesters clean up their own messes. We don't need help from the likes of you.", then carefully aimed and shot out all four of their knees. They dropped to the blacktop, screaming. He barely heard them, hearing instead his brother's words, "I let him out. I got to put him back in." Then he turned and walked back through the crowd of hunters which parted magically as he came then turned to his room to clean the gun and reload before he finished mopping the kitchen. 

Somehow after that most other hunters seemed to give him a wider berth than before. They seemed to be afraid of even talking to him, as if he might go berserk, and even if they won the battle he might come back from the dead to kill them. Funny how stories got blown all out of proportion. Ellen and Ash didn't act any different than before, though. Ellen never said anything, but he knew she was glad that he'd let them live. When she thought he wasn't looking her face carried more pity and sympathy than he could stand, considering the fact that he'd gotten Jo killed, so he tried to stay out of her sight as much as possible. He hunted deer and wild pigs and turkeys, and fished. Killing Bambi and Babe and Nemo was just so easy in comparison to dealing with humans and monsters that he could almost do it without getting his brain involved at all. And with the price of meat these days he figured it probably paid his rent.

He spent his spare time reading everything he could put his hands on to try to find a way to spring Sam, and as time went on it began to almost feel normal eating and drinking with Ash and Ellen and the other assorted come and go help she hired. He watched Ellen, trying to discover her secret, how she kept going no matter how much shit life rained down on her. Gradually his brain felt less swaddled in fog and now and then he had moments that he forgot the pain. He just ignored the monster and demon stories that wandered through the daily conversations in the bar. He felt removed from it, outside of that life. He knew it was only a matter of time, but for now, it was enough to just survive.

Peace and quiet had never lasted long in his life, though, and this time was no exception. He'd just been waiting, after all. He and Ellen had taken a rare ride together to the hardware store because the roof was leaking again and the air conditioner had gone out at the same time. They'd been kind of easy together, bullshitting and laughing gently. She was good people and good company.

On the way back they'd seen the smoke rising from miles away. The Roadhouse was a black twisted blazing mess with firefighters and hoses and police cars everywhere. Ellen's eyes leaked steadily as they sat in the Impala and scoped it out. Dean watched her realize that everything she'd ever loved was now gone. Even her truck was a blackened shell. 

A few hunters stood around watching the spectacle, but none of them knew what had happened. Eventually the fire chief came back and told Ellen that there were three bodies in the bar, and brought Ash's watch to ask if she could identify it. Cold anguish gripped her heart and held on tight. She'd still held onto hope that he'd made it out. The chief said the bar had suffered an explosion, and asked her about enemies. She'd played the part of confused widow woman well. 

When the noise finally died down she and Dean went back to the Impala and headed out. He took his normal precautions for fleeing a scene and started driving. They threw out their cell phones as they drove away and then stopped for new ones in a small town after sixty miles or so. When they were a couple of states away he finally pulled in to a sleazy motel and got a room. Ellen just sat in the car until he opened the door and took her arm. She looked up at him, sort of surprised looking like she had no idea where they were. He tried to smile. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you in the shower while I go get us some food."

She didn't answer, but she didn't resist. He pushed her into the bathroom and listened for a minute until he heard the water turn on. Then he headed across the street to the nearest burger place. When he got back she was dressed and sitting in a chair staring at the wall but her hair was wet so he figured she'd managed the shower on autopilot. He just started feeding her bits of food instead of trying to convince her to eat. It seemed to work for awhile. She chewed and swallowed sort of vacantly while her eyes leaked. Eventually she turned her head away and he quit. 

He put his arm around her and led her to one of the beds. As he covered her up he realized she was looking at him. He looked back and saw the pain in her eyes. He sat down and took off his boots and slid down and put his arms around her. She sighed, and her eyes closed. The physical and emotional exhaustion did its job and with the comfort of a warm body they both finally slept. 

Dean woke to feel an unfamiliar weight on his chest. He opened his eyes cautiously to see long brown hair and remembered. He lay still and listened to her breathe, unwilling to wake her to the nightmare that her life had suddenly shattered. Again. He knew how hard it had been for her to keep going after Jo's death, and he wished he could take away her pain. Ellen was on a very short list of people he cared about who were still alive. The list had gotten shorter yesterday. Images of Ash flashed through his head, laughing, stoned, holding up a beer, eyes lit up, on his computer. Then an image of Sam and Ash laughing together. His eyes started watering again. Ellen stirred. She looked up at him and then rolled back, head on his arm, staring up at the ceiling silently. They just stayed there for awhile.

Finally, Ellen took a deep breath and looked over at him. He looked back, wondering where they could possibly go from here. When he saw the pain staring at him his heart flashed into flames. He took her head in his hands and slowly leaned his lips down to kiss the tears off her face. She moaned, and finally let go, rocking and sobbing and screaming out the anguish built up inside. He held on and muttered soft comforting words at her, just letting her have her release. He couldn't do much, but this he could do. He pulled some tissues from the bedside table as her shuddering finally slowed, and she blew her nose and wiped her tears and lay quieter in his arms, clinging as if he would drift away if she didn't hold on tight enough. He held her tightly back, and let his own tears fall. They were an island of pain in a cocoon hiding from a vicious, evil world.

Years later, it seemed, her grip on him finally loosened and she deliberately relaxed her body, letting the tension bleed out of it and sat up. Dean looked up at her with a question on his face. She tried to smile and almost succeeded. "Thank you, Dean." He smiled back softly. "What are friends for?" He eased upright. "I really need to get a shower. You want to go get breakfast after that?"

She nodded slowly. To Dean it looked like she was trying to remember why she needed to keep going. "Jo and Ash would want you to, that's why." 

Ellen looked up at him and breathed that in, tasting his words for truth. She nodded again. You didn't live as long as she had without deciding somewhere along the way that life wouldn't beat you. She just needed reminding of that decision. 

After a mostly silent breakfast that Ellen ate little of, he headed for the local Walmart to find Ellen some clothes. When she realized what he was doing she started to protest, then stopped. She seemed content to follow him while he made the decisions about what to buy and what to do. It was such a difference from the normal Ellen that it made his stomach twinge. 

At the next rest stop he went into the men's room and called Bobby to tell him what had happened and find out if he'd heard anything about why someone or something had attacked the Roadhouse. Bobby said he'd make some calls and recommended a hunter they could stay with for a bit. He said he'd call and make sure it was okay. 

Ellen didn't even ask where they were headed. It was almost dark when they pulled up at a white farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. A forty something year old woman opened the door to them and smiled. She hugged them gently. "I'm Clarice. Bobby said y'all had had a pretty bad time and needed some downtime. My husband Jamie's on a hunting trip but he ought to be back in a couple days. You hungry?" She didn't seem to expect them to answer, and just led them into a large bright kitchen with a big table and lots of windows. She sat them down and got them cups of coffee without really asking if they wanted them. Then she took a fresh casserole out of the oven a minute later and started serving it with sweet potatoes and green beans. Dean felt like he was in the twilight zone. 

"We've got a little guest cabin out back that you can have for as long as you need. It has it's own bath and kitchenette, but you can come eat with us any meals you feel like. I actually could use the company if you're up to it." Clarice chattered away as if this was a common situation for her. Maybe it was. Why should he think his brand of weird was the only one? Ellen's eyes looked slightly less haunted after they ate and Clarice's brand of comfort had sunk in some. Dean was grateful for that. He accepted a key from Clarice and they went out to move the car around to the cabin. He didn't think Ellen had said a word, and Clarice had seemed fine with that. 

When they got into the cabin he realized that there was only one bed and turned to tell Ellen that he'd sleep on the sofa. She looked up at him like he was an idiot. "Afraid I'll molest you, boy?" She almost smirked. He just looked into her eyes and said, "I spent forty years in Hell, Ellen. I'm a lot older than you are." Her face clouded as the truth of that sank in. She reached up a hand and touched his face, for the first time really looking at him like a woman looks at a man. He'd always been a kid to her, off limits. He looked back, letting his years and his pain and his weariness show. He was tired of being alone. She was one of the few people on earth who really knew him. If they wanted to comfort each other now, who could it hurt? 

She read the message in his eyes and he could see the shock run through her like a bolt of electricity. Rules and conventions made society work, but in the rough dark world of hunting, their lives were too bloody and raw to contain in such a tidy little box. He wasn't the wild young slut out to drink and brawl his way across the country any more, just as she was no longer a wife or mother trying to set a good example for her innocent daughter. They could make their own damn rules now. 

He watched the emotions ripple through her before leaning down to gently slide his lips across hers. She just watched him for a moment, silently, before opening up and pushing hard against him, moaning almost a scream of misery into his mouth as she tried to take him apart at the seams. He matched her move for move, fending her off and letting her in like they were in a duel to the death. Her tongue and lips thrust into his mouth and he met her halfway, sucking and licking and tasting her. Her hands pulled his hair and he hiked her up onto his hips grinding against her in a fury. He didn't know if her fear or anger was driving her farther, but he knew he wanted to take whatever she could hand out and go her one better. She was a real woman who had loved and hurt and survived, and he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone. She felt what he felt. It was more than enough. 

He walked her over to the bed and laid her down, pulling back to pull off his coat and shirts. The raw emotion on her face hurt deep inside him, but his gut said the best way to soothe it was to inflame it. They kept eye contact while they got undressed, and almost gently moved back together before the emotions swept back through them and the tornado took over again. She bit his neck while he shoved his fingers deep inside her, yelling incoherently and fucking her to screams of fury. He pulled her hair and bit her nipples while she scratched his sides and rolled him back and forth across the bed. They pushed against each other with knees, elbows, shoulders, feet, whatever had a muscle and would move. It was like wrestling a demon on speed. He knew they would be bruised and bitten tomorrow, but he could only think that was better than dead from the freight train of anger they were letting out. When he finally got her under him, he impaled her with his cock all in one thrust and knocked the breath out of her for a moment. She sobbed and grabbed his shoulders and shoved her hips up against him as hard and as fast as he'd ever been fucked. He pulled her ass up against him and slammed back until she screamed and spasmed and shuddered and came apart and finally began to relax, and then he let loose and roared and came hot inside her with one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had. 

When he finally stopped shaking and floating in the intensity, he lifted his head to check on Ellen. He looked through wet, blurry eyes to see her looking back at him. "You okay?" She sort of trembled and laughed a tiny bit. "I think so. You?" He smiled a little. "More than. I think. I needed that... Am I too heavy?" 

"No, I like you there. Feel safe. Like I haven't in a really long time." Her voice shook with the emotion and she hid her face against his shoulder.

The idea that she could show that vulnerability to him overwhelmed Dean. "I like making you feel safe." It was hard to say, but it felt very right. Their flesh had been flayed from their bones and they were both naked meat, no protective layers left. Raw honesty was the only thing they had to give each other right now. And the only thing they needed.

They stayed together like that for a long time, until their bladders finally got the best of them, but after that they climbed back in the bed still naked, and wrapped around each other. Neither one seemed able to relax enough to sleep, so they just talked. Mostly about little things. Tiny memories from better times, retreating from the horrors, even if only for a short respite. The fact that they could share the pain and share shutting it out seemed like a gift beyond any price. 

Later Ellen finally drifted off in the dead of night, and Dean lay back and stared at the ceiling to think. He didn't know how he should feel about this thing between them, but he knew it felt better than anything had in his life in a very very long time. He didn't know where this was going to lead him, but he decided that if she needed him, he would be there. He hadn't been able to save Sam, but maybe he could find a reason to keep going after all. 

TBC


	2. A Little Pleasure With Your Pain, Perhaps?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Ellen comfort each other with pleasure and pain.

He pulled her face down across his lap, whispering, “So, baby, you want me to spank you first or tie you up and fuck you into the mattress?” She moaned incoherently, just waking up. He pulled her nightgown over her head and slapped her bare ass hard enough to sting, and waited to see if she could answer yet. He didn’t really expect her to, and he wasn't surprised to hear “mmmm ummm, uhhh.” So he proceeded with a series of sharp blows with his open hand on her bare bottom, enjoying the little jumps and screeches she reacted with. Finally he landed a few lighter blows directly on her pussy, and felt the wetness leaking out, anticipating him. He swung her around and pushed her face down on the bed and dragged her hands up to the bedframe and fastened them safely apart, then shoved a pillow up under her hips to tilt her pelvis just right, legs spread. He leaned back a moment to admire the view of her ass and pussy poking up into the air, letting her squirm with the embarrassment of it, knowing she was at his mercy. Dean knew the humiliation would be burning her cheeks and making her hornier than ever. 

The knowledge that Ellen was never submissive in the real world made this all the sweeter. She trusted him to take care of her and she was totally his in return. It took a lot of guts to submit to someone else's will and beg them to humiliate you. Just as it took a lot of balls and sensitivity to humiliate and use someone just enough, without scaring them away. 

Dean ran his forearms lightly across Ellen's lower back and the back of her arms and legs, eliciting another moan, obviously disgruntled at being denied release. “Please, Dean…” He laughed softly. “I love it when you beg, baby.”

Dean knew Ellen felt guilty just having sex with him. He still looked younger than she did and Jo had been a little bit in love with him, but that was part of the point. Punishment was definitely on the agenda. For both of them. To block the memories and the guilt and the pain. Right now neither one could handle their pleasure with no pain. They were definitely fucked up, but at least they were fucked up together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! I'd love to know what parts you think work or don't.


	3. Surviving sucks but it happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Ellen hunt again and find healing.

Dean swung around, eyes flashing to the door when he heard the bar go quiet. This wasn’t an unfriendly place. It took a lot to shut up everyone in here. His radar flashed to make sure Ellen was on the other side of him, relaxing a tad when he saw the person at the door was just a girl, no taller than his shoulder. She looked defiantly around at the crowd, challenging them. He flicked his eyes at the bartender. Kara was a redneck chick who didn’t put up with crap out of anybody, but she looked like she’d swallowed a fly. She dropped her eyes, turned away and poured a beer. Like a switch had flicked, the bar noise came back, everyone carefully not looking at the door. Except Dean, of course. He watched openly as she slunk into the place, settling on the stool next to him. Ellen gave him a sardonic grin, and turned back towards the pool table where she was handily winning. Dean watched the people around him react as if the girl were a skunk, casually moving away, but pretending they weren’t. So naturally he looked over and asked, “Why’s everyone so afraid of you?”   
She snorted, eyeing him sideways. “New around here, huh?” He grinned. “How’d you guess? My name’s Dean.” He held out a hand to her, gauging the reaction both from her and the crowd. He’d never played it safe in his life, no reason to start now.   
She looked up at him kinda seriously. “You might not wanta know me, you know.”   
“Why not?”  
“I’m not exactly the most popular person around here.”  
“I kinda got that. You gonna tell me why, or do I have to listen to the local gossips to find out?”  
She sighed. “I’m Maris O’Donnell. I see ghosts.” She looked at him like she was waiting for him to edge away or laugh.   
He looked back. “Me too. Also werewolves, vampires, and demons.”   
“Go ahead. Make fun. Not like you’re the first. Kara, how about a beer?”, she hollered loud enough for the bartender to hear.  
He nodded. “I’ll bet. But I’m not making fun of you.”  
Maris frowned, staring at him like she was trying to read his eyes.  
He leaned around to yell at Ellen, “Ellen, tell Maris here how many monsters I’ve seen.”  
Ellen never missed a beat. “Honey, he’s seen more monsters than he has bars in his life.” She knocked the next ball into the pocket smoothly and grinned at the boys watching her.  
Maris’ mouth sort of dropped open. Her frown deepened. “I don’t know what kind of game you two are playing, but it’s not funny.”  
Dean shook his head. “No game. We’re hunters. We kill monsters. Our lives are a little fucked up, you might say.” He tipped his beer up and sucked down the bittersweet liquid, wondering if she believed him. When he looked back down, she was still frowning, but she was still there.   
“How’d you learn how to do it?”  
“Grew up in the life. S’all I know how to do. My Dad and my brother and I traveled around the country. Dad was looking for the demon who killed our mom.” He wondered why he was telling her. The first rule was never tell. But she deserved to know she wasn’t a freak. Or, well, she wasn’t the only freak.  
“Did he find it?”  
“That’s sorta complicated. But it’s dead now.”  
“How can a demon die?” She was perfectly serious.  
“Um, I’m not real sure on the details. If you just exorcise ‘em, they can come back, but if you kill ‘em, they never come back. My brother was really good on the research stuff. He was smart as hell.”   
“Was?”  
“Lost him a few months ago.”  
“Did a monster kill him?”  
“You might say that.”  
Maris looked like she wanted to question that, but wasn’t sure if it was polite, so she took a sip of her beer.  
“You know, you’re the first person who’s ever taken me seriously.”  
“Glad to oblige.” He summoned up a half a grin. “How many ghosts have you seen?”  
“Just the one. She lives with me.” Maris’ mouth twisted a little. “I grew up with her. My parents never seemed to mind her, and mostly she just screams if strangers show up. Now and then she tries to shove me down the stairs, but I always duck or grab the railing. I made the mistake of trying to convince the other kids that she existed, though, and they all think I’m the village idiot.”  
He laughed a little. “I can help you get rid of her.”  
She looked at him and frowned again. “I don’t know. That feels like murder. Doesn’t she have a right to live too?”  
He shook his head. “She’s not alive. She’s hung in between, not able to go rest. It’d be helping her to move on to where she belongs.”  
Maris thought a moment. “Okay. What do we have to do?”  
“Well, we start by figuring out who she was. Do you have any idea?”  
“My grandma always said she was her aunt Elspeth. That she’d fallen down the stairs and died. That’s why my parents never minded her. They said she was family, and if she wanted to hang around they didn’t care.”   
“Usually they stay because they have unfinished business.”  
“Grandma said Elspeth had been really close to her younger sister, my great-grandma, and that she’d stayed to take care of her.”  
“Do you know where she’s buried?”  
“In the family plot at the Sardis Baptist church cemetery. It’s about four miles out east of town.”  
Dean looked around for Ellen. “Come on Ellen, we’ve got work to do.”  
She looked up from counting her winnings and cocked her head, but followed Dean and Maris out to the parking lot.”What’s up?”  
“Ellen, Maris, Maris, Ellen.” They nodded at each other and looked back at Dean. “Maris’ great-great aunt needs her bones burned”, he explained. Ellen just nodded and headed for the Impala. Maris looked a tiny bit stunned, like she’d expected Ellen to laugh. Ellen looked back and fussed, “let’s get moving. Night’s not getting any younger.”  
Maris climbed in the back of the Impala gingerly, like she maybe wondered if they were serial killers. Dean laughed. “Ellen, she thinks we’re crazy.”  
Ellen turned in her seat to look at Maris. “We probably are, but we know what we’re doing, too.”  
When they got out of the car at the cemetery, Dean popped the trunk and got out two shovels. “Where’s her grave?” Maris led the way, looking a little worried. When Dean and Ellen both started digging, she looked around nervously. “Won’t we get in trouble for digging up a grave?”   
“We’ll put the dirt back. Most folks don’t seem to notice anything.”   
Maris took a couple of turns with the shovel, digging like a trooper, and resting in between. When they finally hit the coffin, and opened it, she seemed untroubled by the actual burning. She helped put the dirt back, and then looked at them. “So, uh, how do we know it worked?”  
“If you never see her again, it worked.”  
They dropped Maris at her car and headed home. Dean was exhausted, but happy. It was the first real work he’d done since he’d lost Sammy. Helping Jamie around the farm didn’t give him the sort of satisfaction that hunting did. 

 

The next morning they slept late and then made love slowly, softly, like they had eternity to spend just touching each other. Dean wondered if there was a significance to it, since they usually had sex frantically or urgently or angrily. This lazy erotic tenderness was totally uncharacteristic of their relationship. But it fit their mood. He nuzzled her neck and placed tiny soft kisses and licks down her shoulder, giving her the shivers. She leaned her breasts across his chest and used them like fingers, rolling them around in slow circles down his body and across his cock, gathering it in between them and rubbing it up and down. She slid her body up his until her pussy lips slid up and down the underside of his cock as it lay on his abdomen, slowly, erotically rocking her hips forward and back, driving him crazy until he pulled her down into a long languid kiss and gently rolled her over onto her back and mounted her, sliding his hard dick into the soft hot folds of her pussy, maintaining a steady, slow rhythm that pulled him in and out of her, riding the edge of his orgasm but not letting it roll over him until she arched up against his steadily rubbing finger on her clit and clenched over and over again. He knew that somehow this was an experience he’d remember for a very long time. He smiled at how blissed out she looked. Seeing her happy twirled something around inside him. After the fire he hadn’t been sure she’d ever smile again, and it had hurt more than he’d like to admit. He’d sort of lost track of anything outside of the two of them, and just putting one foot in front of the other, and trying to be what she needed, to help her survive.  
Dean wondered what Jamie and Clarice and Chris and Lauren thought of them, suddenly. It hadn’t even occurred to him to care, before. He’d been grateful to them for being there, and letting them stay, and for not pressuring them to do anything, but he suddenly realized that he and Ellen must seem an odd couple, entwined in themselves and sadness. The night’s work seemed to have pierced the cocoon that they’d been living in, allowing the light of real life to seep back in for the first time.


End file.
